The Longest Forty Weeks of Their Lives
by Gangsta Videl
Summary: Oh Gawd... a certain member of Schwarz is pregnant. Who is it? Wasn't that a given? Humor and insanity follow the 'news'. Plz R+R


The Longest Forty Weeks of Their Lives  
  
A/N: X_X So many things to say, yet... if I say even half of them, the humor of this story will die. And we all know that I live for the humorousness of my stories. So, let me put everything this way: it came to me in a dream. Literally. Well... the part with the clock did. O_O Dammit, gave away part of the plot! *begins slamming her head into the wall* Stupid me, stupid me, STUPID ME! *grins evilly* Oh well. Wait until that comes, and be amazed! *does the big dance of dancey-ness* And yes, this is a BradxSchu! And yeah, I kinda had to rely on the 'Esset-gave-them- all-special-drugs' thing, but... I like it ^^  
  
Disclaimer: I own... THE CLOCK! *shifty eyes* But I don't own Weiss Kreuz, no matter HOW MUCH I might beg to own Farf.  
*******  
  
The Longest Forty Weeks of Their Lives  
  
Chapter One: In the beginning.... or something like that, anyway...  
  
*******  
It was just your average day in the Schwarz apartment... Wait. No it wasn't. Why would anyone read a story about an average day? They wouldn't! Therefore, this was obviously NOT the average day in the Schwarz apartment.  
  
Uh... as I was saying... things were definately not average today. But the Schwarz team didn't know it yet. Oh no, they were going to have to find out the hard way...  
  
You see, dear reviewers, it all started out at breakfast. Or at least, part of it did. The rest either happened before or after. But, as the plot hole will tell you, the majority of their problems started out at breakfast. Or, at least... the majority of Schuldig's problems started there. Well... technically, his problems started during the heavy metal rock concert his parents were attending when they became drunk and conceived him. But that's another, longer, much more interesting story.  
  
Anyway, Schuldig was just sitting there, actually minding his own business for once, when he realized something.  
  
Someone had stolen his last waffle.  
  
And not just any waffle. It was one of those imported waffles he had forced Brad to buy long ago when they were visiting the United States, which is yet another, longer, much more interesting story. But like Schu was thinking... one of his precious, golden brown, hot, toasted waffles... stolen!  
  
Schuldig looked around and, failing to see his waffle anywhere, suddenly began crying very loudly. A lot like Sailor Moon or Space detective Mihoshi Kuramitsu from various other animes tended to cry. But whereas they had good reason to cry, i.e. being blonde shoujos, Schuldig was just Schuldig and was crying over his waffle, now M.I.A. So he was crying over it.  
  
Fortunately, for the sanity of most of my readers, it was now that one Brad Crawford entered the room. Upon seeing Schuldig sitting there, crying, he shook his head and walked away. Sometimes it was better not to ask. Especially in the mornings, before Brad had had a chance to drink his coffee and steal more of Schuldig's waffles. Damn, now those things were good! He'd have to remember to write the Eggo company and compliment them one day....  
  
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Schuldig wailed, running over and grabbing ahold of his lover's pant leg. "Oh, Braddie, it's simply AWFUL! First, I'm REAAAAAAAAL tired today! Second, I have this bad headache, then I had to go throw up all night, and NOW somebody's stolen darling dear WAFFLE-CHAN!!! Not to mention the fact that I'm all cramped and sooooooore!"  
  
The American blinked and stared down at the red-head German. "Waffle-chan? You NAMED your WAFFLE?"  
  
The German nodded, staring up at his American lover dumbfoundedly. "Of course! You mean you've never done it?" Schuldig was truly confused. Maybe it was a Germanic thing. Maybe he was still buzzing off his booze. Or maybe, and this is the most likely, he was suffering some sort of weird, strange disease.  
  
.... scratch that. DEFINATELY suffering from some sort of bug or disease. For it was at this moment that Schuldig remembered why he'd toasted that waffle in the first place. He'd been very hungry from throwing up all night long. So he'd made himself a waffle to fill his stomach.  
  
Unfortunately, eating fourteen waffles before losing your last one doesn't quite count as having an empty stomach...  
  
"BLEEECH!"  
  
"Eeew, Schuldig!" Brad crawford whined, jumping up and down and waving his hands, desperately trying to get the vomit off his pants without actually having to touch it. "Whaddid you do that for?!"  
  
It was safe to say that the American had a low tolerance for puke. Actually, that was most definately an understatement. He had no tolerance whatsoever, usually, but since this was Schu... he was willing to make the smallest of exceptions and not kick him into a wall, like he would've done with nearly anyone else.  
  
The German looked up at his dark-haired love with tearful eyes. Was it really his fault if he was dying of some sort of new stomach flu? Or if he'd just heaved his entire waffle-y breakfast onto the man's favorite suit?  
  
A new thought hit the still-on-the-floor-clutching-dirty-pants-German. Maybe... maybe Brad didn't love him anymore! The very thought of it made even more tears well up in his eyes, already overflowing with tears. For some reason, the sight of this made Brad very glad that he always carried ear-plug in his jacket pocket. He put them on without a moment to spare.  
  
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!! DON'T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?!?! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"  
  
The German's loud, pitiful cries could be heard for miles. Literally, miles.  
  
As if to prove that, a certain purple-eyed, brown haired man jumped out of his shower swearing as loud as was humanly possible. Unfortunately for all of his female fans, he grabbed a towel and covered himself while quickly pulling his extremely long hair out of his eyes and into a sloppy-looking ponytail.  
  
He soon came to the conclusion that this was all his roommate's fault and began bellowing. "QUATREEEEEEEEE! WHADDID YOU DO LAST TIME YOU WERE ON THE ZERO SYSTEM?!?!"  
  
But this isn't a Gundam Wing story. It's a Weiß Kreuz story. Which means we should be watching Schuldig and not Duo. Even though watching Duo would make many people happy. I am not one of those people, and therefore, we shall return to the Schwarz apartment, conveniently located sixty-seven miles to the North-West.  
  
Might be a long trip for those of you without driver's licenses...  
  
Anyway, we return to our heroes... erm, I mean, Brad and Schu... as Brad attempted to drag Schuldig to the bathroom before he could get sick again. He had removed his ear-plugs. Or rather, Schuldig's high-pitched wailing made them break and they disintigrated. Crawford much preferred the former to the latter. Anyway, he was trying to bring Schu into the bathroom. Which was hard, since the German was crying and holding onto his suit pants for dear life. Which might have been okay, if a certain fifteen year old boy didn't also want to use the bathroom.  
  
Like I said: average day gone very wrong. Particularly in about, oh... four or five hours. But that's four to five hours away, so let's stick around in the present a bit, shall we?  
  
The moment the still-in-pajamas Nagi saw he Crawford, he began to laugh. "My God, Brad! What the hell happened to you?! Get run over by the town drunk?!"  
  
"YES," both he and Schu replied in unison. Nagi sweatdropped. Crawford sighed and took his glasses off, magically whipping a cloth out of his pocket with which to clean his spectacles. Both Schu and Nagi waited while he cleaned his glasses and put them back on to start their bickering. It was only polite, after all.  
  
"Braaaaaaaaaaaddieeeee!" the red-head whined, tugging harder at Brad's pant leg. The American wondered for a moment if they would fall down, but his trusty belt held tight and his boxers were not exposed. Weeellll.... not for the moment, anyway...  
  
"Brad Crawford!" Schuldig yelped, jumping to his feet. It was times like these when Brad wondered why he ever told anyone his middle initial. Then he remembered---he hadn't. The German had seen it on the blasted stationary his mother had purchased him for his last birthday.  
  
'Stupid American mother, buy me stationary with my stupid name on it... '  
  
It was safe to say that Brad blamed all his problems on his mother. Actually, his parents in general. What do you expect? He had some anger issues. Probably because they had sold his little dog Scruffy when he was in school, then told him that the dog had run away. Talk about scarred for life! And he never would've known if he hadn't seen and heard that John Knoxville playing with Scruffy the next week, and say how 'that Mr. and Mrs. Crawford sure were real nice' when they had sold him their little dog. Maybe that's when Brad's problems started. Maybe they started when his overly-religious mother tried to make him wear pink booties as a baby. Does anyone really know?  
  
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAD! Tell Nagi he has to wait!"  
  
"What?! No way! It's your fault if your body has finally reached the maximum amount of alcohol it can handle! Why should I be late for school just because you have a hangover?!"  
  
"Why should I have to sit here and listen to you?! You're only fifteen!"  
  
"And you're twenty-two, but you have the I.Q. of a three-year-old!"  
  
"...BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"  
  
'I wonder if we have any peanut butter in the house,' Brad mused as his lover and the teenager continued to yell and fight. 'I could really go for some peanut butter on toast... I wonder if Schuldig likes peanut butter? Do Germans even have peanuts? Hmmm... I wonder... '  
  
"BRAAAAAAAAAAAD! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?!"  
  
"Of course, Schuldig," the American replied, never stopping to think about what he was saying. Which may or may not have been a good thing.  
  
Nagi scowled. He knew that Brad hadn't been listening and that the American was prepared to defend his precious German lover to the death. So, instead of waiting for Schuldig to make up some ridiculous story about how Nagi had been sneaking out to see Tot (which, inconspiculously, was not so ridiculous) or how he (Nagi) had been stealing Schu's yaoi mangas. Which was a damn dirty lie, but this was Schuldig, and he would make sure to win any fight.  
  
So, instead of being yelled at, Nagi very calmly walked past the two older men and went off into the living room.  
  
Meanwhile, sixty-seven miles to the South-East....  
  
"OMAE O KOROSOOOOOO!!!!!"  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!"  
  
"IIIIIINJUSTIIIIIIICE!"  
  
Well.... wasn't that a nice.... whatever it was? But I do believe there is a plot in progress sixty-seven miles to the North-West, so let's go back there, shall we? All righty then!  
  
Brad and Schu watched Nagi leave the room, and the German smiled his crooked little smile. He turned to walk into the bathroom...  
  
... and promptly passed out.  
  
Being the German's partner, not to mention the only person who witnessed said fainting, Brad's eyes widened and he dove to catch Schuldig before he could hit the floor. Somewhere, off in the background, the love theme from 'The Bodyguard' began to play. Brad Crawford, holding his darling dear SchuSchu, snorted.  
  
"Nagi, you have approximately three seconds to turn that off before I come in there and make you."  
  
Said brown-haired boy yelped from inside the kitchen and used his telekinetic powers to turn of the CD player which he'd started. It was his idea of a joke, and as we all know, the stick up Brad's ass is up waaaay too far to enjoy and/or get jokes.  
  
Now, Brad was starting to get a little bit worried. First off, the man who supposedly loved him had named his breakfast dish. What kind of retarded name was Waffle-chan, anyway? Secondly, Schuldig had complained of being on a hang-over, which didn't make sense, since the German could drink him under the table and he and Brad had gone out drinking together the night before. And Brad was fine. Actually, they'd only had five beers between them.  
  
He'd also complained of being tired. Actually, considering the activities the two had gotten to the night before *cough*screwing-each-other-like- rabbits*cough*, Brad couldn't blame him for being a bit... exhausted, maybe? Spent? Brad himself was a little tired... what else had Schu said? 'Cramped and sore'?  
  
The dark-haired American snickered, lovingly placing Schuldig on the couch and covering him up with a blanket. Sore, now that he could understand *cough*O_O*cough*. But cramped? That was a new one. Maybe he'd eaten too many waffles or something. How should Brad know? He was pregocnitive, not postcognitive. And yes, O wondrous reviewers, there is such a thing as being postcognitive. Don't know why anyone would want to see the past, though...  
  
Now, let's see... where was I? Oh yes. A plot line. Well, anyway, while all that crap ws happening... Brad started to feel bad about Schuldig's condition and realized that he was probably sick and that he should do something to make him feel better.  
  
But what to do? Bake him a cake? The day he put on an apron of any kind and baked any sort of baked good was the day he'd go join Weiss. No, he'd do something different. Buy him a card? That seemed kind of lame. 'Sorry you're sick, here's a cheap piece of paper folded to look nice'. Definately.... not.  
  
"I know," Brad said gleefully, doing the Mr. Burns'-finger-thing. It was actually a little scary to watch, but... funny as hell at the same time.  
  
"I'll go out and buy him some flowers!"  
*******  
That was how, two hours and forty-three minutes and six-and-a-half seconds later, Brad and Nagi found themselves fighting through a crowd of semi- rabid fangirls to get into the Koneko flowershop. Needless to say, Brad was about ready to use his amazing boxer-like fighting skills to work his way in and Nagi was about ready to blast all the girls to hell.  
  
"Why did I have to come, anyway?" Nagi whined as yet another girl jumped on him, yelling something about looking like the 'hotness inside'.  
  
Brad, who was fighting the urge to strangle the little old lady with the cat, turned and glowered at Nagi. "Don't you want Schu to feel BETTER, Nagi? Don't you WANT him to be HAPPY and HEALTHY?!"  
  
"Er... YES!" the boy squeaked, ducking to avoid both fangirl and Brad. Seeing his chance, he began crawling army-man-style towards the doors. So close...  
  
Brad paused and tapped his chin thoughtfully, pondering. 'Now, what was it I was supposed to remember about the Koneko, again?'  
  
And that's when the author decided to remind Brad by throwing in Schwarz's biggest rivals. Or two of them, anyway.  
  
"Does anyone actually want to buy flowers?" Ken Hidaka asked the mob of semi-rabid, squealing fangirls.  
  
"Buy something or get out!" Ran Fujimiya yelled as they began to swarm over him like angry African killer bees.  
  
Brad, who was about to leave Nagi there and go to another flower shop, stopped, and turned his head Exorcist-style. He laughed quietly at the sight he saw.  
  
"I knew there was something I was supposed to remember about this place! WEISS works here!"  
  
Said assassins...I mean, florists.... I mean, I don't know what I mean, ARGH! Anyway, Ken and Aya... froze and turned to see Brad laughing at them. A few moments later a young boy whose back was covered in shoe prints jumped up and ran over to stand next to the man with the Armani obsession.  
  
The red-headed man with the anger issues glowered. His partner just glared. All the fangirls began to get afraid and backed away slowly, giving Brad the chance to move closer to the shop. Nagi was behind him, very afraid of being attacked by those fangirls again. Dammit, those girls could scratch HARD! Damn their manicured nails!  
  
"Oracle. What the hell do you want?" Ken seethed, actually putting down the ever-present hose to clench his fists angrily. The fangirls moved further away. Brad smirked.  
  
"Actually, I just wanted some flowers, but it seems I've gotten oh-so much more." The American laughed evilly, and whatever fangirls were left screamed and jumped away, and now no one was in between the two members of Schwarz and the two members of Weiss.  
  
Ken raised an eyebrow. "Flowers... ? The HELL would you want with flowers?"  
  
Crawford put on a fake pout. Sticking around with Schu for so long had allowed him to learn many new talents, like pouting for instance. "I'm hurt. Honestly, can't a man do anything nice for the person he loves and admires without recieving any grief from his mortal enemies? No? Well, I suppose I should've realized that." He grinned and looked down at Nagi, who was trying to figure out how to get the fingernail polish out of his hair. Damn those girls and their overly loaded purses of make-up! It was going to take DAYS to get that crap out!  
  
"Prodigy. Do your stuff."  
  
The boy groaned loudly but obeyed. Using his almighty telekinetic powers, he created his own bouquet (making all the evil fangirls run off screaming about ghosts and haunted flowers) and floated it over Abyssinian's head and into Crawford's hands. He then floated a five-dollar bill into the cash register.  
  
"Thank you," Crawford laughed. "And good-bye." He and Nagi then jumped into the magical helicopter that always seems to follow Brad around and flew off. Both members of Weiss ran out into the street, swearing as their enemies made a very slow get-away.  
  
"Damn them!" Aya yelled, giving the receding vehicle the finger.  
  
"I know!" Ken yelped from inside the store. "All those flowers and they only gave us a five! Those cheap bastards!"  
  
Aya groaned loudly and began banging his head on the walls of the Koneko. This was SO not an ordinary day... and oh boy, was he ever right or WHAT?!  
*******  
In less than an hour, Brad and Nagi were home again. Nagi (who had been complaining about having been tortured with lipstick and having a girl dump fingernail polish in his hair) was so happy to be home, the moment the helicopter landed, he was out on the grass, kissing the dirt.  
  
"You have problems, Naoe," Brad called as he hoppped out of ye olde helicoptere and onto solid ground. As much as he liked flying, solid ground was nice, too. And so was the ocean, but he'd never walked on water before, and he doubted his ability to, so the ground was probably the safest place to be.  
  
The blue-eyed boy scowled up at his father-like figure as he stood up and dusted off his arms. "Yeah, well... you have problems, too."  
  
"Like... ?"  
  
"Like, falling in love with Schuldig?" The boy snickered as the taller man glared at him from behind his oh-so very shiny glasses. It would be the last time he ever snickered at Crawford's sexuality. Ever.  
  
The man with the oh-so shiny glasses took a deep breath, and promptly whacked Nagi over the head with his newspaper. But not any newspaper. Oh no, THIS was his SPECIAL edition of the New York Times! The special, three- hundred page paper! And that's not all! It was the SUNDAY edition of the usually three-hundred page paper! And you all know what THAT means, right?!  
  
That's right! The paper was a good seven-hundred pages long! Good old New York Times! The moment paper met skull, Nagi was lying on the ground twitching and saying something about idiots with paper presses. Who could ever really be sure?  
  
"Not I," said the cat.  
  
"Not I," said the dog.  
  
"Not I," said the pig.  
  
"Not I," said the duck.  
  
"Not I," said the author as she kicked the freaky barnyard animals out of her story. Now, shall we continue? Maybe yes? Maybe?  
  
Brad grinned at Nagi and folded his paper which was hard, since it was about four inches thick. He also picked up the lovely bouquet of flowers and carried them into the apartment cheerfully.  
  
Five minutes later, Farfarello came outside and dragged Nagi in by his ankles. Seems the American was giving him extra blender time to bring Nagi in. Oh well, back to the fic, eh?  
  
Brad was humming as he arranged the flowers around Schuldig's sleeping form. Which was odd, since; A) this is Brad we're talking about, B) Schuldig never missed an episode of All My Children, and that was about to start in three minutes, and C), it just was, okay? Besides, Schuldig never slept without cuddling either Brad or his plush VCR toy (long story short? Brad had won it at a carnival, and thrown it at Schu's head, who caught it and vowed to never be without it, as it was a symbol of their love).  
  
'I wonder if Schu's really sick or if he really has just finally reached his blood-alcohol limit... ' Brad pondered, sitting down in his imported La- Z-Boy recliner and watching Schuldig sleep. At least, he hoped Schu was only asleep. If he was comatose, somebody (most likely a certain bartender) was going to end up in a rather shallow grave near the railroad tracks.  
  
Farfarello looked back and forth between the two lovers for a few minutes before shaking his head and walking off. Annoying Nagi was more fun that watching Crawford brood over the days events. Actually, both were fun, but only if you had a fork with which to poke Crawford with. Since Farfarello was suffering from severe lack of fork, he decided that mimicking Tot's voice in the boy's ear would be fun enough. Since the boy was obsessed with her, and all.  
  
Approximately thirty minutes later...  
  
"KISAMAAAAAAAAAA!!!"  
  
"Hee hee hee! Mimicking the blue-haired hellspawn is fun!"  
  
Loud crashes, bangs, and several laughs and growls were heard from the Space Room, where Farfarello and Nagi seemed to be having the fight of the century. This was the sort of thing Schuldig loved to commentate on.  
  
And he was going to be ever-so pissed if he found out he was missing it.  
  
"Schu? Wake up, Schu." Brad glared at his sleeping German and thought for a moment, and only a single moment, about how to wake him. He conjured up the best memory he could of pro golfer Tiger Woods shooting a birdie and thought about it very hard.  
  
The German woke up screaming two seconds later.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!! Oh for the love of--- BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDIEEEEEE!" The German took one look at his spectacled lover and burst into loud, noisy tears.  
  
"JEEZE, man, you KNOW how I feel about golf clubs... " The German whimpred and buried himself under his blanket, sniffling. The American's face softened and he was instantly out of his La-Z-Boy and sitting next to Schu on the couch, comfortingly (is that even a real word? o_o) wrapping his arms around the smaller red-head.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry. But you slept for so long, I was afraid you might end up like that Aya girl... " Brad's light embrace turned into a light squeeze as he thought about Schu being stuck in a coma for years. The red-head smiled weakly. He suddenly noticed the lack of Farf and Nagi in the room, and the excessive amount of Japanese and English swears coming from the Space Room.  
  
"Hey, Braddie? Where are Nagi and Farfarello?"  
  
The American grunted, adjusting his glasses. He does that a lot, ne? "Space Room. Fighting. Something involving Schrient." The American sighed and looked down at the German, whose eyes had gone wide with shock. "What? What's wrong, Schu?"  
  
"What's WRONG?! It's the fight of the century and you didn't TELL me?!" The German's eyes welled up with glistening, Trowa-esque tears as he leapt from the couch and dashed to the Space Room, reminding Crawford of a fairy or a leprechaun or Santa Claus or something.  
  
And that's when he noticed something.  
  
"SCHULDIG, YOU JACKASS! I BOUGHT YOU FLOWERS AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE!!!! GRRRRRRR!! THAT'S IT!! YOU'RE ON THE COUCH NOW, BUDDY!!"  
*******  
The next few days were pretty much the same. Yep. Out of the ordinary? Definately. For, you see, every morning Schuldig would wake up and feel nauseaus, somehow managing to ruin one of Crawford's favorite outfits, go to sleep for a few hours, and wake up at one feeling relaxed and refreshed. And frankly, after the last incident at the Koneko, Brad wasn't about to go out and get more flowers. Actually, he was too busy being angry at Schuldig to do much of anything...  
  
"Schuldig, what the hell?!" said American bellowed after, about, oh, let's say... a week and a half. For the past week and a half, you've done the same damn thing! Are you dying or something?! I know you're not out drinking because you sleep right next to me! So what the hell's going on?!"  
  
The German pouted, tears falling down his face. Was it really his fault that he was feeling so sick every morning *cough*plot hole*cough*? And having to spend those first two nights on the couch! It might not've been so bad, but to try and sleep without his Braddie and Mr. VCR-Man? Now THAT was cruel!  
  
"But Braddiekins! I don't know what's wrong!" The red-head's tears fell harder and he buried his face into Brad's chest, making the American feel even more like a jack-ass than he did in the last scene.  
  
"WAAAAAAAAAAAH, maybe I'm gonna DIIIIIEEEEEEEE.... !!" When this realization hit, Schuldig broke down and began crying harder, and the now completely jack-assed Brad frowned and knelt next to him, cupping the red- head's jaw in his hand.  
  
"You're not dying, Schuldig." Trying to sound consoling didn't do jack squat about the feeling in Brad's gut. He grunted, wishing he hadn't eaten that fifth blood sausage. Clotted blood did something to his stomach, or so it seemed.  
  
The German was far too busy wailing to hear Crawford. He sweatdropped.  
  
"SchuSchu, why don't you just go to the freaking doctor's and have a check up or something?"  
  
The German froze, turning to stare at Brad. "How come I never thought of that?"  
  
The American sweatdropped again. "Why am I not surprised... ?"  
*******  
Okay, THAT was boring... let's skip ahead two more days to Schuldig's doctor's appointment, eh? This will be more interesting.  
  
So, it was then that two days later, that Schuldig found himself in the waiting room of an overcrowded doctor's office. Which might not have been so bad if everyone's thoughts weren't circling around in his head.  
  
'I wonder what Jimmy's making for supper....?'  
  
'Damn them all! Omae o koroso!'  
  
'Why is Heero so uptight? Does he have a spandex wedgie or something?'  
  
'I wonder how they get those little M's on the M&M's... ?'  
  
'How does the Great Saiyaman do it all? Damn!'  
  
Schuldig wondered what would happen if he were to down an entire bottle of aspirin and go to sleep. Then he wondered what would happen if he used his powers to make that guy with the braid and the purple eyes jump out a window. He was bitching a lot. The only reason Schuldig knew it was him was that he bitched in his mind and out loud.  
  
'I'm going to kill them.'  
  
'DAMN HIM!!!'  
  
'Oh my, I hope there's nothing too seriously wrong with Johnny!'  
  
'OMAE. O. KOROSO. Where's my gun? DAMN! Just when I really need it, too.... '  
  
'Heeeey! Who put those little S's on my Skittles?!'  
  
'That red-headed guy's HOT, I wonder why HE'S here, he doesn't look sick to me! Maybe he's got, like, one of those STD's or something!'  
  
'I wonder what all these people are thinking... ?'  
  
Schuldig snorted, trying to make his mind blank, but it was no use. Apparently he wasn't the only one dreading this trip. That girl on the corner looked as worried as he felt. Then again, he wasn't quiet sure what to think. Or if he was even thinking at all, for that matter.  
  
Oh, the joys of telepathy.  
  
A few moments later, a stoutly doctor with a face like a squid opened the door and looked down at her clipboard. Her voice was even more nasal than Schu's, and it hurt his ears. Damn.  
  
"I need a Heero Yuy, Kasumi Tendo, and a Schuldig Crawford." The woman glared at everyone as the three aforementioned anime characters... I mean, people... walked over to her. Schuldig was not happy to see that it was the worried girl and the genocidal maniac who had also been called up. He particularly wasn't happy about having to use Crawford's last name, either.  
  
The nasally woman led them down a dark corridor and sent them each to their own rooms. Schu was happy that, with fewer people near him, he could at least hear himself think again.  
  
And so, more crap happened. The doctor came and did a few crap tests, et cetera, et cetera, and told Schu to come back in a week to get his results. Why? Because the authoress was too damn lazy to write a decent scene.  
  
So, approximately one week later (and sixteen boxes of Eggo waffles later).... Schuldig found himself (once again), inside the doctor's tiny little room, all alone. Waiting ever-so impatiently for his test results, that is. It had been, what? Two and a half weeks of being sick every morning? Schuldig just prayed to God that it wasn't cancer or syphilis or some other fatal disease.  
  
And I bet all you readers are ready to kill me for this over-used plot, huh?  
  
After fifteen minutes of reading Reader's Digest, Schuldig was bored. Ten minutes of Rosie Magazine didn't help much, either. The only thing he could stand reading was some foreign magazine called 'American Baby', and only because it was in English and he was having fun trying to pronounce all the words.  
  
"'Yole baybee eez nah tree moons alung,'" he read, grinning from ear-to- ear. Maybe waiting for the doctor wouldn't be so bad afterall!  
  
"'Eet huz fee, eye, un eettle heltbet. Yo shull be ebble t'feel eet mobe.'" The German giggled madly and kept reading. The entire time, he had to keep wondering; what was he actually saying, anyway? Schuldig paused and considered telepathically asking Crawford, but decided against it. That would ruin the fun.  
  
A loud rumbling and a, 'Holy SHIT' were audible from behind the door. Schu set his magazine down and concentrated on listening in to the person's thoughts. Anything worth swearing that loudly had to be good.  
  
'Holy SHIT, holy SHIT, HO. LEE. SHIT.'  
  
Schu laughed. It was a good thing Farfarello wasn't telepathic or half the world would be dead by now. He grinned sadistically and kept listening.  
  
'Why the hell does this always happen on my shift? Great, now I get to go and have to explain the unexplainable to the board! Why me, why me?!'  
  
Schuldig pouted and pulled his sunglasses on. This guy talked waaaaay too much in his head. Whatever this 'unexplainable' thing was was obvious explainable, otherwise it couldn't've happened, right?  
  
Uh... right...  
  
"Uh... Mister Crawford?" a tentative voice asked. Schu was surprised to see the overly annoying doctor walking into his room, but shook it off.  
  
'Probably just wants to get me done with, then go do his unexplainable crap... ' he thought, trying to keep a straight face. hey, let's see you being telepathic and then pretend not to be. Hard, ain't it?  
  
The doctor took a deep breath and looked down at the red-headed German, mentally saying all his prayers. This guy looked tough, and with the news he had to deliver, it might be his last patient. Ever.  
  
"Uh... um... " the doctor gulped, and Schu blinked up at him innocently. The doctor sure hoped that whoever this guy was with didn't kick his ass for being mean.  
  
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees?" Schuldig asked, batting his eyelashes. It was so much fun to annoy people!  
  
"Mr. Schuldig... I, er, don't really know how to say this, but... "  
  
"But what? Look, I have to go home and feed the Farf soon, 'cause if I don't then no one else will, and then---"  
  
Schuldig was cut off by the doctor's very frank and very blunt diagnosis.  
  
"You're pregnant."  
*******  
Schuldig heard his jaw hit the floor. Literally. In fact, the doctor was huddled on the floor whimpering, waiting to be beaten for having to bear such news.  
  
It took a few minutes for Schu to realize what the doctor had said. And, being the maniacal person the authoress is...  
  
...he promptly fainted.  
  
...and reawoke four minutes later, shaking with a cross of adrenaline and fear.  
  
"B-b-b-b-but I'm a MAN! Masculine! Non-femine! Male! Of the opposing gender as the child-bearing! How can *I* be p-p-p-p-p-p---" For some reason, he couldn't spit out the word. So the doctor decided to try.  
  
"Pregnant?"  
  
Schu scowled, crossing his arms and glaring. "Shut up."  
  
"With child?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Bun in the oven?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"In the family way?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Baby makes three?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Put a stick in the river and saw a dot on it?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Do---"  
  
"SHUT. UP. !!! Before I rip your tongue out, gouge your eyeballs out with a spoon and forcefeed you your own spleen after ripping all the hairs off your body one by one... !" the German yelled, his eyes going all eerie and creepy, et cetera, et cetera, cracking his knuckles in a most evil way.  
  
The doctor gulped. "Then I take it, sir, that this an, er, unwanted pregnancy?"  
  
"Damn straight!" Schu yelled, jumping up and waving his hands like a lunatic. "I'm a MAN! MEN don't get pregnant! It's just not possible!" The German was in hysterics, sitting down on the floor (when did he sit?), crying his eyes out. The doctor hmmed and hawed for a moment before asking:  
  
"D'you need to call someone to pick you up? I mean, you seem pretty shocked by the news and all, so---"  
  
"Shocked? Why wouldn't I be shocked?! It's not everyday a MAN gets PREGNANT!" Schu's eyebrow twitched as he stood up and cornered the doctor... in a corner...  
  
"Now, would you CARE to EXPLAIN to me just HOW it is EXACTLY that you believe me to be PREGNANT?!?!"  
  
The doctor whimpered and nodded, edging away from Schuldig very slowly. He then whipped out a giant chart of of nowhere and yoinked a pair of glasses out of thin air as well. He got a pointer stick from his pocket and began to explain.  
  
"You see, sir, the shape of your body is slightly deformed in such a way that it seems an artificial uterus has been created inside of you, sir, causing you to become, er, pregnant?" The doctor didn't want to add that he was only the messenger (a man from some company called Esset had told him to deliver the news) and he certainly didn't want this German to attack him for accusing his sexuality.  
  
Not that it would be a lie, but still...  
  
An anyway, Schuldig, despite popular belief, wasn't all that dense. He'd read the moron's mind and found out it was Esset who was behind his pregnancy. Actually, he was surprised to be surprised. Esset was behind everything; why not getting a man pregnant?  
  
Actually, come to think of it, somebody from Esset had delivered that weird bottle of pills for him... were those strange, green pills the reason he was... well... were they the reason?  
  
"Probably," the author said, nodding sadly. "Actually, definately. There's no other way Schu could've conceived, right?" Smiling like the maniac she is, Gangsta Videl grinned and walked off into the darkness. Or into the next room. Whichever.  
  
Anyway, Schuldig had come to three very important conclusions. One: Esset knew he was gay, and therefore, were no doubtedly coming to kill him off after having this kid. Two: He was a man, about to have another man's baby. Three: Brad Crawford was going to shit a brick the size of Canada. Only one of those three wouldn't actually happen, so... look sharp and wait to see which one.  
  
Yeah, right. 'Look sharp and wait'... you all know which one's the real one, right? I hope so. If not, you better hit the back button and go read Weiss's Midsummer Night's Dream. It may entertain you enough so that you can guess the answer correctly next time.  
  
Schuldig, whimpering, stood up and walked past the shaking doctor. He made a mental note of his name (Doctor Quackenstein), and walked past the receptionist almost blindly. Luckily, Mrs. Overlygenki (the receptionist) noticed and waved to him cheefully.  
  
"'Scuse me! Sir? Sir! Would you like to make another appointment, sir?" she asked him, grabbing onto his arm and forcing Schu to look down at her in all of her short, tubbyness. The red-head made a face.  
  
"Yeah, sure, why not... "  
  
Mrs. Overlygenki beamed. For some reason, Schu knew it was too scary to even think about reading her mind. It was bound to be full of cotton candy or unicorns or rainbows or something genki and happy. And Schuldig wasn't really ever a genki, happy sort of person.  
  
"All righty then, sir! Tell me," she added, winking flirtaciously, "who is yor doctor?"  
  
"Quackenstein," Schu replied, and the woman facevaulted.  
  
"Quackenstein?! But he's an OB-GYN!" She stared at Schu in horror as he continued to look at her blankly. "And OB-GYNs---sir, Quackenstein can't possibly---"  
  
Schu was getting bored, so he just took a deep breath and took over her mind completely. Actually, despite the flowers and the scary mental images of himself in pink boas, her mind wasn't that bad. He made her walk back over to her chair quietly and give him another appointment in three months.  
  
Walking out to his car, Schu stopped before unlocking the door as realization dawned on him... again...  
  
"Damn. I'm going to be a mom!"  
  
And he promptly began slamming his head onto the car door, giving it a very large, head-shaped dent before finally getting in and driving to the Schwarz apartment.  
  
Houston, we have found the plot hole.  
*******  
The rest of Schwarz was all eagerly awaiting Schu's return. Wait, scratch that. Brad was eagerly awaiting his return. Nagi and Farfie were busy playing deadly knife games and tic-tac-toe. But at least Nagi was winning. So far, Farf had only taken one stab at him (not literally, of course) in their knife game, but had missed.  
  
Or rather, Nagi made him miss. Good ol' telekinesis!  
  
And anyway, Brad was getting mad. He had only just had a vision of Nagi screaming, 'HEAVENS TO MERGATROID!' at the top of his lungs before passing out. And Schu had been in the vision.  
  
Plus, the German was late. Which only irritated Mr. Stick-up-his-ass further.  
  
"Where the hell is he?! For the love of Armani, he better get here soon!" Brad griped. Nagi sweatdropped and looked away as Farfarello carved the last X into the tic-tac-toe game.  
  
"I win!" the Irishman called out gleefully. Nagi looked down and swore loudly. There went his six-hundred-sixty-five game winning streak! Crawford paid no heed and continued muttering inaudible curses. In English. Which made Farfarello laugh and Nagi shake his head sadly.  
  
"Damn you, Crawford... one more to go and I was going to beat Schu's record!"  
  
Brad laughed. "What, the big 666? Sorry to disappoint you, but Schu's actually reached about five times that once." The American laughed at the boy's sad, depressed, crushed face.  
  
"When?!"  
  
Brad paused to think for a moment. "Last... week... ? Yes, it was last week. That day Schu and I went out drinking." He grinned, remembering all the fun and excitement of that day. To save your hentai minds, let's just say it involves Schu, Brad, X's and O's and several bottles of chocolate syrup and whipped cream.  
  
Be still, young perverted minds.  
  
Brad continued to drum his fingers along his brand spankin' new briefcase. He'd always wanted a nice briefcase in which to put his, er, things. When I say things, you do realize that I mean something along the lines of leather, whipped cream, jello, and chocolate sauce, right?  
  
The authoress laughed viciously as hordes of BradxSchu fangirls reached for their tissues to stop their nosebleeds. She then, to everyone's delight, continued her writing.  
  
Bad author. Bad.  
  
So, anyway, Brad was mad and Nagi and Farf were playing games. All three of them were waiting for Schu to return home with the news of his new sickness/disease/thing that had... well, we covered that. They were waiting for him to return home and for things to get normal.  
  
Which... they weren't. Not by a long shot.  
  
Just as Brad was beginning to contemplate world domination (and yes, folks, he did that a lot these days), he heard the familiar screech of tires followed by loud German cursing that meant that Schu had returned from a rather stressful trip... anywhere. And, being the American he was, grinned and set his paper down.  
  
"He's baaaack," Nagi called out, causing Brad to glare and Farfie to laugh. The American, who had, no doubt, never seen that particular movie, frowned at them both and went to go stand by the door in wait.  
  
A few moments later, the loud stomping of feet and more German cursing was heard. This, as the Schwarz team knew, was a sure sign that Schu was upset about something. Particularly since he seemed to have forgotten the fact that the door was unlocked.  
  
So Schu was standing on the doorstep, digging through his pockets for the house key and continuing to swear as loud as he could in his native tongue. Because swearing in German is fun! =D  
  
After five or ten minutes of finding nothing but paper clips, lint, and a raisin in his pockets, Schu opted for the more traditional approach: bang on the door as loud as possible and wait for Brad to open it. But remember, dear reviewers, that Brad was standing behind the door.  
  
So, Schu took a deep breath and began yelling aloud to Brad, though it was still in German dialect.  
  
"LIEBLING!!! LIEBLING!!!" he bellowed, pounding his fists on the door. "LIEBLING! LOS! LOS! LIEBLIIIIIIIIING!!"  
  
Now, whether or not Brad's powers had suddenly gone on the fritz or not is unknown to us at this time. All we know is, he opened the door.  
  
And Schu's clenched fist pounded into his face, making the taller American fall to the ground on his back while the German screamed like a girl in surprise.  
  
"LIEEEEEEEBLIIIIIING!" he screamed again, and Nagi and Farfarello ran into the room, both shocked to see their mighty leader lying on the floor (dazed but not unconscious, amazingly), and the red-headed man holding the aforementioned American's head in his lap, weeping.  
  
"Meine schöneheint," Schu whimpered, cuddling Brad's face, complete with broken glasses, to his chest. It was surpisingly homey. "Was ist does?"  
  
To which Brad Crawford replied: "Speak English."  
  
Schu coughed, more than slightly embarrassed. "Er... Are you all right, Braddie?"  
  
The dark haired man scowled bitterly. "Of course, Schu dear. I was only punched in the face by my lover. Nothing wrong there." To prove his sarcasm, he rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out, blowing a raspberry. The German's eyes watered and he promptly began crying again.  
  
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.... you don't LOOOOOOVEEEEEEE MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"  
  
Nagi, who had had more than enough of the massive amount of overly emotional Schu he could stand, sighed and walked into the Space Room to fetch Crawford his back-up glasses. Since the crying was hurting his ears and all.  
  
Farf was enjoying it. Gee, I wonder why .  
  
Brad sighed and looked up at Schu, making a point to grab hold of his jaw so he wouldn't be able to cry any more.  
  
"Schuldig. Let me make this very clear to you. I do love you. Very much." That was surprisingly loving. Especially coming from Herr Stick-in- ze-arse. "But being punched in the face hurts like a bitch, dammit." Now THERE'S the Crawford we all know and love.  
  
"I'm sowwy," Schu pouted. And he really was. Sorry, anyway. And very pregnant too, but nobody else had asked yet, and... well... that part's coming up.  
  
Crawford somehow managed to sit up, and Schu attached himself to Crawford's arm. The two of them walked/staggered into the living room. We need to say staggered since Crawford couldn't stand on his own feet well, being the near-sighted freak he is, and had to have Schu guide him into the living room.  
  
On the way there, however, Schu walked him into four walls, two doors, and the kitchen table. ....ow?  
  
Anyway, when they finally got into the living room (Brad a little more bruised than before), Nagi walked in and handed him one of his emergency pair of glasses. Unknown to most people is that Brad had a stash of emergency glasses hidden all over the house. Most of them were the darkened, regular, Braddish shades he was always seen in. The others, however, were the desperate glasses.  
  
And when I say desperate... whenever he was out of his good glasses, he had to wear the bad ones. And purchase more good ones. Because his good ones were always breaking. And the bad ones looked horrible.  
  
The pair Nagi had brought in, for instance. They would put even Elton John to shame. To begin with, they weren't shaped normally. They had heart- shaped lenses. And the frame was a bright red plastic. With large rhinestones embedded in them in numerous shapes.  
  
They looked like something Tot might own, if Tot needed glasses and had gone both blind and insane.  
  
Brad decided that he was going to make Schuldig go out and get him more glasses. There was no way in hell he could be seen in those replusive red things longer than necessary. But, being the American gent he was, he took them and put them on, growling when Nagi snickered and Farf laughed.  
  
"So. Schuldig." The American looked down at his lover, who was tying reeeeeally hard NOT to laugh at those RIDICULOUS glasses.  
  
"What did your test results say?"  
  
Whoosh. All the air ran out of Schu's balloon, laughing and screaming in a Farfie-esque way. The next thing any of them remembered was Schu suddenly going SD and crying his eyes out.  
  
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" A certain German wailed, his tears drenching the other members of Schwarz. Crawford sighed and pulled an umbrella out from behind the couch, popping it open and hiding underneath it, muttering one thing:  
  
"I foresaw this."  
  
Nagi sweatdropped. Farf whimpered and tried to use his vest as an umbrella by covering his head with it. Schu continued to wail. Loudly.  
  
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The man's crying was getting louder... and louder... and louder still. Just at about the same time as his ear drums would've exploded, Nagi jumped up and bellowed, "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMOREE!!!!" and promptly jumped out the window. Being the special telekinetic he is, he just floated himself harmlessly into a tree.  
  
Brad scowled and began yelling out the window. Loudly. How loud... ?  
  
Very.  
  
"NAGI NAOE!!!! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE BEFORE I HAVE TO SEND FARFARELLO DOWN THERE TO COME AND GET YOU!!!!"  
  
In under a minute, the boy ran up the stairs, through the door, through the house, and into the living room, sweating and panting from pure fear. And adrenaline. But mostly fear.  
  
Brad grinned. "Good Nagi." The boy scowled and gave Brad the finger. Brad honored the guesture by nodding to Farfarello.  
  
Farfie grinned and walked up behind Nagi. Taking a deep breath, the Irishman covered Nagi's eyes and called out in a very high-pitched, Tot-ish voice: "Nagi-kun! Guess who's here for a visit?!"  
  
Which led to Nagi screaming (either out of fear or surprise), and jumped forwards, turning three-hundred-sixty degrees as he did so.  
  
And, as you can all guess, Schuldig was mad that no one was paying attention to HIM and HIS condition. He was no longer an SD, but he was pouting and had his arms crossed indignantly. Damn, he hated being ignored.  
  
He waited about four seconds, but no one was looking at him, not even Brad. Actually, said American was laughing at Nagi and Farfie's fight (Nagi was using his powers to throws plants and such at Farfarello for imitating Tot and Farfie was laughing and dodging and imitating her even more).  
  
Schuldig took a deep breath. It seems he'd finally snapped and was very ready to reveal his, er, condition to the public.  
  
Readers, please be cautioned. Any and or all sanity lost during the rest of this fictitious story is entirely dependant on whether or not you continue reading. Thank you.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHH!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?!?!"  
  
The three not-so-busy-watching-Schu members of Schwarz turned and stared at the German, who looked like hell fire was about to fly out of nowhere and surround him.  
  
"I GET SICK, GO TO THE DOCTOR, GET FREAKING ASSAULTED BY FOUR FREAKING POLICEMEN, NOT TO MENION THE FREAKING OVERLY GENKI RECEPTIONIST AND MY QUACK DOCTOR, AND NOW YOU IDIOTS DON'T EVEN CARE ENOUGH TO LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TRY AND TELL YOU WHAT'S WRONG?!?!?!?!"  
  
Everyone was very quiet as Schu twitched and grunted and tried to calm down. Key word there was 'tried.' The man was far from calm, and everybody knew it. Especially his lover. Who was more than slightly afraid for his life.  
  
"Um... Schu, dear... " Brad began, but the German cut him off.  
  
"Nuh-uh, I don't wanna hear it!" Schu raised his hand, waving it in Brad's face. Brad was about three seconds from reaching out and breaking it, but decided against it. Probably because he was wearing those horrible glasses and it would suck to have to make a hospital report in said glasses.  
  
So, instead, Brad made a face while Farfie and Nagi just sat there... waiting... and Schu finally put his hand down and cleared his throat.  
  
And ya know what? Yeah. Everyone was still waiting.  
  
.... and waiting.  
  
........... and waiting.  
  
Waiting sucks.  
  
So, finally, after about ten minutes of them all waiting and Schu just kinda standing there, Nagi decided he'd had enough. Why is it always Nagi, though... ? Poor kid. This authoress seems to like to pick on him almost as much as Brad!  
  
"Uh... Schuldig? Are you ever going to tell us your news, or should we schedule a---"  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
There was a very long hush. In which, Farfarello's knife (which he had been about to lick), fell onto the floor with a clang, Nagi's jaw hit the floor and Crawford stared in shock, horror, and apallment. Schu was still standing there, very defiant, awaiting a response of any sort.  
  
Three... two... one...  
  
Everyone... was still very, very, VERY shocked. And since Schu hadn't said anything else that would insinuate a joke or prank... that would mean he was serious, right?  
  
The following reactions are not reenactments. This is the actual .... writedness of how Schwarz handled the news, right down to the letter. Or was it, 'down to the T' .... ? Whatever. Anyway, this is what REALLY happened. Not some cheesy, Hollywood rip-off.  
  
Nagi continued to stare at Schu in disbelief before shouting out (in a very Scickerpuss-esque way), "HEAVENS TO MERGATROID!" and fainting in a dead heap on the floor. He had the best reaction by far, in Gangsta Videl's eyes.  
  
Farfarello stared also. His knife lay forgotten on the floor as he put two and two together in his head.  
  
He's insane. Not stupid. And it only took him a few glances back and forth between the last two standing members of Schwarz to figure everything out. Not that he hadn't known about their little love... thingie for awhile, but, still... It was always interesting to watch a man find out that the man he'd been screwing was about to do the impossible and give birth, well, THAT was always interesting...  
  
Crawford... well... his response was to stand there in shock for a few minutes before his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he proceeded to end up in a crumpled heap on the floor.  
  
On top of Nagi.  
  
Out cold.  
  
Schuldig stood there for a moment, and glanced down at the bodies, then at Farf, then back to their bodies, then Farfarello again. This went on for about... oh... three minutes before Schu's eyes filled up with tears and he let out another wail: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"  
  
The noise was so loud, that... well, you should know that bit by now....  
  
Some sixty-seven-and-a-half miles away, a young man with blonde hair and bright eyes blinked and looked to the sky before looking at his friend with the hair over one eye.  
  
"Trowa! What was that?"  
  
The guy with the hair gave him a look with his one seeable eye and turned away to face in the other direction. The blonde nodded.  
  
"I agree. It is definately a very strange occurance."  
  
At the same time, the authoress came over and whacked the blonde upside the head. "Moron!" she bellowed loudly before walking off. The men turned and stared at each other, blinking. They were silent, and finally the blonde nodded.  
  
"I agree, Trowa," he said, before the disgruntled young woman ran over and began beating him with a swordfish. The man with the hair raised an eyebrow and said nothing.  
  
"MORON!!! HE'S *beat* NOT *beat beat* SAYING *beatbeatbeat* ANYTHIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!! *beat beat beat harm maim beat*!!!!"  
  
....okay, THAT was rather random. Uh... let's go join our heroes to the north again. Before the authoress does something else to put Quatre's life in danger.  
  
Anyway, back some sixty miles to the North-East...  
  
Schuldig whimpered pathetically and rubbbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Usually his high-pitched wails reached Brad's overly sensitive ears, but not today, it seemed. Or maybe he was just out cold for real for once. That second option was much more probable than Brad having gone deaf, but when living with Schu (and being 'owned' by Esset), EVERYTHING was probable.  
  
Even walking, talking mice.  
  
Schuldig sighed and looked over at Farfarello, who had stood up and was now circling him like some sort of vulture or hawk or a collie or something.  
  
"Farf... what're you doing... ?" Schu asked nervously, backing away and tripping over Nagi.  
  
The Irishman blinked as though the German had just asked the recipe for ice cubes.  
  
".... you're goin' ta be a mom," he said. Schu's eyes filled with tears.  
  
And he promptly fainted.  
  
Again.  
*****  
A/N: x_x Wow. That was SO much fun to write, it's not even funny. Or maybe it IS funny XD XD Hey lookie I made a jokie.  
  
Schu: I don't find it funny!  
  
Brad: You should see what happens next chapter...  
  
Gangsta Videl: *coughs* In my humble opinion, chapter three will be the funniest.  
  
Brad: Yeah, I can see how you'd think that one was funny .  
  
Schu: .... DOES ANYONE ELSE CARE THAT I'M MADE OUT TO BE REALLY REALLY OOC AND THE FACT THAT THE MORE I SAY, THE MORE GANGSTA VIDEL KEEPS THINKING OF JINGLE ALL THE WAY?!?!  
  
Brad: Nope.  
  
Gangsta Videl: Not really, no.  
  
Schu: *pouts*  
  
Gangsta Videl: *coughs* Anyway, the more ya read AND REVIEW, the faster I finish! And ya know what? I NOW HAVE LIMITS! *runs around in circles* Sad but true, O loyalest readers. This will be a 'short' fic. Only four chapters! But each chapter shall be full of fun and laughs! .... I hope o_o  
  
---Forever insane!  
  
Gangsta Videl  
  
*****  
  
"My religion? I'm believe in Frisbeetarianism. For those of you who don't know, that's the belief that, when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck there." -Unknown 


End file.
